


there are worse things.

by thewritermakingdreamsreality



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 15:05:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritermakingdreamsreality/pseuds/thewritermakingdreamsreality
Summary: Something is wrong with Hecate; Ada knows it. But Hecate won't speak to her and Ada has no clue what's bothering her friend.Also known as:if we could just use our words the issue would be be resolved by now.





	there are worse things.

i.

“Ah, Hecate.” Ada looks up from the scattered piles of paperwork on her desk to the spot where her deputy headmistress has appeared. She grasps her tea, leans back in her chair, and rests the cup on her stomach. Smiling, she continues,“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Final grades,” Hecate announces. Twisting her wrist, her grade book slaps onto Ada’s desk with far more flourish than necessary.

“You didn’t have to come all the way up here, my dear. Please, sit. Tea?” Standing, Ada pours a cup without waiting for Hecate’s response. She wends around her desk and presses the tea into Hecate’s hand. Their fingers brush and Ada’s stomach flutters. She gazes up at Hecate, whose brown eyes are sharp and warded.

Ada takes a seat in front of her desk and motions for Hecate to as well; which she does, stiffly.

Hecate sips her tea.

Summoning the grade book, Ada opens it. “Let us see.” She runs her pointer finger down the page, “Mildred Hubble, 51. You’ve gone soft on her, Hecate.” Ada smiles at Hecate’s frown; she has to tease. She always teases Hecate and the slight smiles she receives on occasion are worth the glares given on a daily basis.

“Yes, well.” Hecate sniffs. “She did save us after all.”

“Saved you from a lifetime in a painting with me, more like it. Most deserving of a passing grade, I do believe.” 

“There are worse things,” Hecate replies with a quirked eyebrow and a trace of smile on her lips. She fiddles with the watch around her neck.

Ada grins back, but her elation is short lived. “You must think me a foolish old crone for hoping my sister can redeem herself.” She reaches for her tea to hide behind. She knows Hecate agrees with this statement, but she does not wish to hear it. She does not want to keep her face straight as her friend confides her disappointment in Ada’s failure to protect this school.

“No.” Her hand hovers next to Ada’s arm, never touching; “It reaffirms my belief that you have the greatest heart of anyone I know. I must be off,” she continues, glossing over her kindness, “I want to finish _The Reality of Resources: Draught of Ingredients in the Wake of Global Warming_ before I leave for the Worldwide Potion Brewing Conference tomorrow. The author, Victor Brinehill, is attending and I’d love to discuss the article in further depth with him. You should rest, Ada,” her voice softens, “there’s no telling the side affects of being trapped in that painting.”

“Ever studious.” Ada pats Hecate’s arm and stands. “I suppose I must or I will discover exactly how I am punishing Agatha and-” she pauses, staring into her cup at the few tea leaves floating in the remaining liquid. When she speaks again, her voice is smaller than normal, “And I can’t bare it, Hecate. You will rest too, won’t you?”

Rising from her chair, Hecate draws Ada’s attention from her tea. She nods, pressing her lips together. Her eyes stay locked to Ada in promise.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Ada clears her throat, “Everyone appears to dinner plans in the wake of their new childless freedom. I was hoping you would join me here tonight for a light supper. Say around 5?”

Hecate gives a slight shake of her head, her eyes gentle; “I promised Pippa we could meet over dinner. My apologies, Ada. I truly would rather dine with you.”

“I see,” Ada clasps her hands together and smiles to remove the lingering sadness that comes with thoughts of Agatha. “I’m glad you two are speaking again. Will I be seeing more of Miss Pentangle around the castle?”

“No, I don’t believe so.” Hecate places her barely touched tea on Ada’s desk and tilts herself shyly away from Ada. “We’ve agreed to try to be friends again, but some things can’t be what they once were.” Her eyes shine when she meets Ada’s and Ada understands that shine in Hecate’s eye is significant; that Hecate is trying to tell her something.

But she doesn’t understand is what it could be and Ada doesn’t dare pry. No, this is Hecate being extremely forthright with Ada and she doesn’t wish to push Hecate any further. She doesn’t wish to make her uncomfortable.

So instead, Ada smiles like she knows exactly what Hecate is trying to tell her and says, “I hope you enjoy yourself nonetheless, my dear.”

She watches Hecate nod and transfer from the room.

 

 

ii.

 

Ada shifts the tray in her arms and knocks on Hecate’s door the next morning.

There’s no answer so she knocks again, harder this time. Hecate’s always had an affinity for lie-ins.

Holding her hand up, palm facing the wood, Ada is ready to open the door by magic as Hecate needs to be up. She has places to be, conferences to attend.

Perhaps Ada will knock once more, out of courtesy.

The door’s wretched open before she can and Ada finds herself face to face with a leather gown clad, muse-haired, blurry eyed, Hecate Hardbroom. The rage in the thin line of her lips is not softened by the sleep still surrounding her.

Ada’s hand itches to tuck unruly hair behind Hecate’s ear, instead she smiles; “Good morning.” She pushes past Hecate without invitation. She knows it is too early to receive one of those. “I brought breakfast.”

Hecate grunts and the door slams behind Ada.

“Don’t worry, just tea to start. Have you packed your things?”

Hecate grunts again. She snatches a mug of tea off the tray and waves her hand, causing two straight back chairs to appear beside the rickety bed. She plops down in one of them and nudges the other with a bare foot toward Ada.

“Friendlier than usual this morning,” Ada comments and takes a seat, placing the tray in her lap. She busies herself lathering a slice toast with strawberry jam.

“How was dinner with Miss Pentangle?” She sets the knife down and takes a bite of toast; the perfect ratio of jam to bread. Ada hums in appreciation.

Hecate glares into her tea, grunting again. She scrubs at her face with the palm of her hand before twisting her wrist. Her bed clothes disappear, replaced by her usual attire. She straightens herself. “Well, thank you,” she responds, each word slow, calculated, and ever the bit cross.

“Ah, there you are,” Ada smiles softly before polishing off her toast. “I swear you are just as bad as the girls in the morning. Strawberry or raspberry?” she inquires, brandishing the butter knife.

Hecate raises a hand, “No thank you, Ada.” She sips her tea, her eyes slipping closed and a her lips twitching into a smile.

It’s the sugar Ada adds even though Hecate takes her tea black. Ada’s sure of it, as certain of it as her conviction that Hecate needs to allow herself to enjoy the small pleasures ever once in a while, like sugar in an otherwise bitter concoction.

“I thought you might like company while you pack. As it is your favorite activity.” Ada stands, placing the tray on Hecate’s dresser next to the door, and brushes her hands together to get rid of the last of the toast crumbs.

Hecate sniffs, eyebrows raised. “Perhaps I’ve already done it.”

Ada waves her hand, summoning Hecate’s trunk from beneath the bed. It’s empty, save a few scraps of parchment in the bottom. “If I knew the lot of you were walking around this conference bum out, I would have asked to join you years ago.”

“Ada,” Hecate hisses, a flush rising in her cheeks. “Nonsense,” she mutters into her tea.

Chuckling, Ada opens the amour. “Let us see, ah, yes.” She pulls out Hecate’s green, high collar dress. “Green is your color, my dear. Are you presenting this year? You never tell me these things.”

Hecate nods.

Ada sighs, “And I suppose it’s too late for me to attend the conference.”

Hecate nods again.

“One of these days I’ll be there to hear you present with or without your help, Hecate Hardbroom.” She waves her hand and the dress folds itself into the trunk neatly.

“You don’t have to do that, Ada.” Hecate’s knuckles are white as she grips her mug. The flush spreading beneath the collar of her black dress.

“Nonsense, Hecate. I want nothing more than to support you as you have me all these years.” Ada plucks another dress out of the amour. “Now, tell me about your night.”

 

 

iii.

 

Her eyes dart to the painting once more. Agatha leers out at Ada and she can’t help but remember what it is like to be trapped, aware of everything, yet unable to act. The only way Ada could describe it is akin to sleep paralysis; being seemingly awake though the brain is not connecting to the limbs for reasons beyond comprehension in that very moment.

Knowing how it feels, how can she, Ada, do that to her sister?

She is not the cruel one. She’s always practiced fairness and forgiveness, yet here she is, staring at the portrait of her sister and Miss Gullet, fully aware of the torture she is instilling on them.

Sighing, Ada tears her eyes away to her empty office. She should be working on correspondence with the school governors, budget reports, supply orders while she has the time, but she’s never been good at these type of things. Hecate has always helped her, always been here to keep her in focus. But she is away for the week and Ada is stuck here with Agatha.

Trapped for four more days of this torturous solitude.

If Hecate were here, she’d know what to do or say to put Ada’s guilt at ease. She’s always had a knack for it.

Perhaps, if Ada mirrored Hecate, she could gain some clarity. Surely Hecate will know how Ada can recenter herself.

Ada tugs her pocket watch out of her cardigan; five to seven. Hopefully she can catch Hecate before or after dinner.

She stands, wishing her office weren’t so bloody empty, and wends over to her private mirror beside the portrait of Mother.

Waving her hand over the mirror, she has to choke back a gasp when the inn room comes into focus.

Hecate’s in her room all right; wrapped in a towel, fresh from a shower with pink tinting her collarbones. Her long hair combed back. “Hecate?” Ada whispers, not wanting to startle. She diverts her eyes to the frame of the mirror her, heart thundering somewhere in her throat. Her own face is rather warm.

“Ada? What is it?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” she trails off, peering over her glasses at the mirror frame. 

“Ada, look at me.”

Slowly, Ada does, not sure what she will discover, but Hecate is now fully clothed in a high collar dress, her hair wet and pulled back in a plait.

“What is it?” Hecate asks, she leans forward her eyes soft with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, it’s only Agatha.”

“Agatha? I’ll be there-” She’s already rising.

“No, no, I’m not in danger. It’s only, she’s staring at me.” Ada interrupts, a smile curling onto her lips; Hecate is too good, too sweet. Ada who traps her sister in portraits and endangers the entire school doesn’t deserve her.

The corners of Hecate’s lips twitch upward as she settles herself back before the mirror.

“And I have a budget report,” Ada continues, aware that her voice has taken on a hint whine.

“A budget report?” Hecate’s eyes are softening further, her posture relaxing.

“Yes, and my office is too quiet.” Ada doesn’t know how else to say she misses Hecate without being too forward for Hecate’s taste.

“Too quiet?”

“Yes.”

Hecate is smiling and Ada’s cheeks hurt from the force of her own grin.

“I am off to a practical brewing, but perhaps I shall mirror when it is over?” Hecate raises her eyebrows in question, suddenly appearing hesitant and quite young.

“I would like that very much,” Ada assures her. “I’ll move my mirror to the desk.”

Hecate nods, “As would I.”

Ada hears a knocking on Hecate’s side of the connection.

“Just a moment,” Hecate’s voice is low but travels across the room; it causes goose pimples on Ada’s skin. “I have to go.”

“We’ll speak later.”

“Yes. And, Ada,” Hecate’s eyes are still soft but her walls are restructuring, preparing Hecate to be around someone other than Ada.

Peering over her glasses, Ada waits for her to continue.

“I will move Agatha when I return.”

“You don’t have to do that, my dear.” She glances at the portrait, “I will,” she continues her voice quieter than she would have hoped.

“Put her in my desk. I’ll tuck her away elsewhere. I really must go, Ada.” Her eyes are sad, Ada can almost believe Hecate does not wish to leave, but she knows better as Hecate thrives at these conferences. They are where she is meant to be.

Ada nods, “Thank you, Hecate.”

The mirror fogs and clears, leaving Ada to examine her own reflection. The corners of her eyes are crinkled with the remains of her smile and her lips still slightly upturned. She appears much happier than she feels, but then again when Hecate is around Ada rarely finds herself anything other than happy.

Removing the mirror from the wall, Ada places it on her desk. She turns to the portrait of Agatha, her stomach rolling with guilt and every bone in her body aching to release her sister, to not punish her further by placing her in a drawer where nothing can be seen. Ada takes her from the wall anyhow. She knows Hecate is right, Ada should move Agatha as Agatha has doomed herself to her own punishment.

“Oh, Agatha,” she whispers as she makes her way from the room. “Why has it come to this? All I ever wanted to was for us to be sisters again as we were before the Mists.”

Her footsteps echo in the empty corridors, only serving to remind Ada that she is alone in this castle, but more importantly in this task. She must be the one to move Agatha from her office, because if she doesn’t she can never hope to heal.

It is odd to be in Hecate’s office without Hecate. Almost as if Ada is sneaking about, doing something wrong, by being here. She lights the oil lamp and its glow reflects off the jars of ingredients lining Hecate’s space. The effect is eery and only serves to cement Ada’s belief that she should not be here.

She slips open the first drawer on the left of the desk, it is filled to the brim with paperwork.

So that’s how she keeps her desk so tidy; perhaps Ada will try that.

The next drawer is home to two face down, framed photographs. Not being able to resist, Ada sets Agatha down and picks up the first photograph. It is of a young, gangly Hecate with her arm wrapped around a small, grinning blonde: Pippa Pentangle.

Ada’s never seen Hecate so unguarded, but even in this photograph Hecate’s edges are hard, beginning to sharpen into what Ada is familiar with. 

Placing the photograph on the desk, Ada picks up the next, to discover with a heart flutter of surprise, Hecate and herself. Ada has this same photo hidden in her dresser. It was taken during school picture day by Miss Drill. Very little is out of the ordinary, Ada is smiling, Hecate is tense, but Imogen managed to capture a moment of softness in Hecate when Ada placed her hand on Hecate’s arm.

It is Ada’s favorite photograph.

She tucks the photographs back into place, her body humming pleasantly knowing that Hecate also finds their photograph special.

Agatha goes on top of the two frames. Ada stares into her sister’s eyes as she shuts the drawer; her heart clenching as she takes the first step to move on from all of the pain Agatha has inflicted.

 

 

iv.

 

The rest of the week is long, longer than any term could be.

Ada sighs, replacing her quill in the inkwell balanced on the armrest of her chair and slouches back into the cushion. Her eyes scan the papers scattered over the coffee table, Hecate’s armchair across from her, and floor. Hecate would frown if she found Ada in this state, but Hecate isn’t here.

And Ada misses her. This castle is lonely with Hecate, the only other staff members who stays at Cackle’s full time over the holiday.

She should be back within the hour: Hecate, prompt as always, will stop by to let Ada know that she’s arrived safely.

If Ada’s lucky, Hecate will stay for dinner.

But there is no possibility she will if Ada doesn’t get this mess cleaned up. It will set off the twitching muscle in Hecate’s jaw.

Groaning, Ada pushes herself up out of the chair. She twists her hand and her paperwork stacks itself neatly. She picks it up, smearing the fresh ink on her thumb across the top parchment. “Oh, bugger.” She scrubs at the spot but the ink smears, further absorbed into the page.

Ada vanishes the stack and supplies back to her desk and leaves her sitting room. She wends her way down to to the kitchens to see what kind of meals Maria left for her to reheat.

Poking her head in the cooling closet, Ada discovers many different soups. Soups are simple to prepare, but Ada’s doesn’t fancy them tonight. She’d like something more hearty and comforting.

Mmm, Shepard’s Pie. Sometimes there is nothing like a good pie; Ada takes it from the cabinet. She’ll wait to warm it until Hecate arrives.

Which, by the time Ada returns to her office, should be in the next half hour.She sets the meal aside, checking the cooling charm, and plucks up her Maglet. No messages yet; Hecate doesn’t usually take the device with her, but she occasionally sends Ada a message when she is on her way up from her rooms.

When it’s quarter to, Ada conjures two tumblers and pours a nip of whiskey in both. Something for Hecate to relax to after the long journey.

Five to eight, she warms the pie. The hearty aroma swirls around her office and Ada’s stomach releases a growl of hunger. She rubs it and places full servings onto two plates.

At five past, Ada picks up her Maglet and scribbles out, _are you back, dear?_ , because it’s unlike Hecate to be late and Ada has no other way of contacting her.

Quarter past spurs Ada into pacing her office, her magic forming nervous ripples in the air. Surely nothing has happened. She would know, wouldn’t she? Ada taps her fingers against her thighs as she goes, trying to bring herself from her nerves to the room around her.

Hecate will be back soon; she must have encountered an unfavorable draft or flash storm. It certainly happens more often than not.

Half past and Ada’s standing at the fire. She could mirror the inn- or call them, it will be faster- to inquire to whether or not Hecate left; yes, that seems the best plan. She rushes to her desk and yanks to phone from the receiver, dialing the number from the parchment Hecate left her with all of her contact information.

The call heeds very little. Yes, Hecate left and left on time, no they haven’t heard of any weather that would delay her.

Ada stopped chewing her nails when she was a young girl, but tonight she bites down on the skin around them, tearing it, releasing frantic energy.

Where could Hecate be? She would let Ada know if she were to stop off before returning. It’s an arrangement they have; being the only two in the castle over summers. They came to an agreement the summer Hecate started teaching here they would look out for each other, ensure the other returned safely after journeys.

Hecate wouldn’t do this to Ada, not unless something was seriously wrong.

Quarter to nine; Ada rushes across the room for her travel cloak and broomstick. She has to go out and search for Hecate. What if she’s injured? What if it’s too late to find her come morning?

Something is wrong; Ada knows Hecate would never do this to her.

She should call for help in the search. Should she demand the staff back?

No, no, she doesn’t want them fretting. She’ll.. She’ll-

Ada yanks the phone so hard it crashes from the desk. She doesn’t bother pick it up; instead she crouches, clasping her cloak into place in the process, and dials a number she has memorized. She presses the cool phone to her ear.

“Pe-”

“Pippa,” Ada interrupts, just barely refraining from shouting into the device, “It’s Ada Cackle. I need your help. It’s Hecate.”

“Hecate,” Pippa’s voice raises an octave. “But it can’t be, she just left here.”

“She- she was with you?” Ada asks, she picks up the base of the phone and puts it back on her desk. She sinks against the surface; her hip digging into the desktop edge. Her body’s empty, now that her nerves have fled.

“Yes, she left five minutes ago for Cackle’s. Are you expecting her?”

“Yes, yes. I was being foolish, I’m sure. Of course she would stop, yes. I have to go. Thank you, Pippa.” Ada hangs up before she hears Pippa’s response. She examines her thumb, it’s bleeding where she chewed on the flesh too hard. She swipes at her blood with her pointer finger.

Why wouldn’t Hecate tell Ada she had to stop off? She has plenty of ways to check in and has been checking in rather frequently throughout the week.

Biting her lip, Ada moves behind her desk. She sits in her chair, sliding down it until she fits into the comfortable wear in the cushion.She rests her head on the back of the chair and stares at the ceiling.

Why wouldn’t Hecate tell her she had to make a stop? She knows Ada worries as they have an agreement.

 

 

v.

 

A knock sounds on the door of Ada’s office.

Ada doesn’t move, but switches her eyes to the spot where the door swings open to reveal Hecate.

“Ada, my apologies,” Hecate strides forward, her eyes large, clothes wrinkled and windswept. “I had to stop in-”

“Pentangle’s, I know,” Ada says quietly. She links her fingers and rests them on her stomach.

“You know?” Hecate asks, a line creasing between her brows.

“I called Miss Pentangle as I- it doesn’t matter.” There’s no need to tell Hecate how worried she was. Ada was foolish to think anything happened. She’s on over alert after Agatha’s latest scheme, that’s all. “Come eat.” Ada waves her hand and steam rises off the abandoned food on her desk.

“Ada?” Hecate hovers in her spot.

“Yes?” Ada doesn’t move to take her food.

“I’ve upset you;” it’s not a question.

Ada shakes her head; “Nonsense. I’m glad you’ve returned. Sit. Tell me about the conference.” She leans forward, picking up her plate, forcing herself through her hurt.

“I-” Hecate takes another step forward. She clasps her hands together over her watch, her thumbs tucking around the object. “Ada, I-”

Shoving a fork full of pie into her mouth, Ada moves it around with her tongue, observing Hecate and her obvious distress. The dark, petty part of Ada, the part she keeps locked away because it’s too much like Agatha, wants to continue watching Hecate fret, wants Hecate to feel what she has felt. But the part of Ada that is more Ada, the part of her she has built to be kind, strong, and gentle takes over.

Swallowing, Ada sighs. “Come sit, dear.” She reaches across her desk and nudges the plate closer to Hecate.

Hecate edges forward, her movements hesitant, eyes probing. She reaches for the plate, pulling it into her, and perches in a chair on the other side of Ada’s desk.

“Did you get to speak to Brinehill?” Ada takes a sip of her whiskey, it’s sharp and hot against her throat. She relaxes back into her chair.

“Yes,” Hecate responds. Her voice is barely more than a whisper. She doesn’t look up, favoring to concentrate on pushing her food around her plate.

 

 

vi.

 

Ada knocks on the ajar door to Hecate’s study the next evening. From her position she can see Hecate in the dim lamplight, extracting herself from the ancient tomb on the desk in front of her.

“Come in,” her voice is hoarse, and Ada suspects she’s been reading for quite some time.

Pushing the door open a little more, Ada leans into the room. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner, my dear?”

Hecate’s eyes begin to harden the longer they are on Ada and it makes her rock back forth with unease; that’s not the way Hecate looks at her, it’s the way Hecate gazes upon the rest of the world.

“Not tonight,” her voice is much softer than her expression; it’s shy and again not Hecate when she is around Ada.

Smiling, Ada places a hand on her stomach to try to loosen the unease tight within her. It is clear something is wrong; yet, Hecate is too far behind her defenses for Ada to receive a response to any personal question she might propose.

She will have to give Hecate time.

“Very well,” Ada says quietly, hoping Hecate can’t hear her disappointment. “You will eat though; won’t you, Hecate?” She gazes over the rim of her glasses, informing Hecate that this is not a request. Ada knows Hecate does not eat when she is upset. If she is not ready to speak, to put her mind at ease, Ada must ensure she takes care of herself.

“I have,” Hecate responds, gesturing to a plate beside her book; her eyes have returned to its pages.

“Very well,” Ada feels as if she’s stuck on repeat, unsure of what else to say to Hecate. Uncertainty has never been an issue between them, at least not for Ada. She has no clue what to do, because apparently it has become one.

She choses to leave Hecate to her book.

 

 

vii.

 

“Here you are, my love,” Algernon says as he places a slice of cake in front of Davina and slips into the seat across from Ada at the staff table. “I dare say,” he leans forward, “these staff gatherings are usually a little more lively, eh?”

Ada smiles, her eyes wandering to the other table where Hecate, Dimity, and Maria are emerged in conversation, each with a piece of the cake Ada went into town for this afternoon. Hecate hasn’t touched hers, only idly fidgeted with the fork.

The sight leaves a knot in Ada’s chest; she should be there, next to Hecate, making her laugh and urging her to eat. It’s been two days since they last spoke in Hecate’s study; has Hecate eaten since then?

“Oh yes,” Davina replies, through bites of cake, “My favorite so far was the time Ada made Hecate’s hat vanish. Say, Ada, everything is all right between you and Hecate, is it not?”

Tearing her eyes from Hecate, Ada nods. “Why do you ask?”

“Well you two are usually the life of the party, aren’t you?” She swats at Algernon as he tries to steal a piece of her cake, her eyes never leaving Ada. “You haven’t said a word to each other all night.”

“It must be rather lonely, just the two of you at Cackle’s when you’re not speaking,” Algernon inserts, he leans back in his chair, his eyes fluttering to the other staff table, “Hecate looks more rigid than usual.”

“And I’ve known you for quite some time Ada,” Davina says; “I’ve never seen you quite so sad, dear.”

“Nonsense,” she waves off the statement; all the while the knot in her chest sinks further into her, expanding the emptiness this summer has brought.

“You must know, Ada,” Algernon starts as he takes Davina’s empty plate from before her, “that Agatha-”

“Well, I must be off Ada,” Dimity says, joining them, “Long flight back to my sister’s. I plan on being back for term in a week or so.”

Standing, Ada says, “Very well, Dimity. Thank you for joining us. Safe flying.”

Dimity nods and leaves.

Ada turns back to Algernon and Davina but they’ve moved to the cake table, not so subtly slipping a few pieces in their robes. When they catch Ada looking, they wave before transferring back to Algernon’s cottage by the sea, most likely.

It appears she will never know what exactly Agatha has done this time. She will have to mirror in later to find out, if she remembers, but she honestly doesn’t know how much more of Agatha she can handle.

She turns, hoping to ask Hecate if she’d fancy a spot of tea, but Hecate has slipped out and the only one left in the room with Ada is Maria.

Smiling, Ada asks, “Cake, dear?”

“I might ‘ave a slice before going. Need to get back to me boys.”

Ada cuts herself a rather large slice of the chocolate cake, hoping it will loosen the knot inside her.

 

 

viii.

 

The bowl of stew is cold by the time Ada puts it to her lips. She frowns and glares at the offending meal, drawing herself from the book on her desk. She straightens from her slouch and reheats the bowl with a wave of her hand.

It is enough time for Ada to notice the empty space across from her, where until very recently, Hecate would occupy every evening of the summer holiday.

But not this holiday, and come to think of it, Ada’s not positive Hecate is even in the castle. She hasn’t seen her all day and it’s been over a week since they last spoke.

Sighing, Ada places her stew back on her desk. She’s no longer hungry; rather as empty as this office.

She’s attempting to give Hecate time, she really is, but the days are so long and so lonely without Hecate around, usually silent, but occasionally asking if she’d like tea or to go for a stroll. Always present in one way or the other before this period of silence began.

The truth is, Hecate is still present. She’s over present, if anything. She’s in every one of Ada’s thoughts; she constantly worries about the other woman’s withdrawal; wonders what Hecate would make of certain letters from parents or certain budget choices Ada’s made. Wonders if Hecate is as bloody lonely as Ada is, because Hecate’s her best friend and Hecate is more. She’s a companion. She always has been.

Ada only wishes she would be again; she can’t run this school on her own and she most certainly cannot live this life devoid of the routine she has created with Hecate over the years. She tries to continue by keeping to the schedule of work in the morning, followed by tea time, then a few hours of research before supper and a stroll across the grounds.

However, by keeping this schedule, Ada finds she rarely encounters Hecate.

Picking up her book, Ada retires to her armchair before the fire, believing the warmth will lull her into distraction, but she only stares at the empty cushion of Hecate’s armchair.

Ada sets aside her book and transfers to her quarters hoping that the distance will provide peace from Hecate; she learns, however, that lying in bed only makes the emptiness far worse.

 

 

ix.

 

Popping into the staffroom for a break from the article she is writing, Ada discovers it is not empty; “Dimity, dear, I didn’t expect you for at least three more days.” She makes her way over to the biscuits she spotted on one of the tables yesterday.

“Sorry, Ada,” Dimity says, appearing from behind her newspaper and she folds it into her lap. “I wasn’t planning on it, but Hecate got in touch. Said she wanted to go over the broomstick curriculum for next semester. Guess she’s got some new ideas.”

“I must have misheard you, dear. I swear you’ve just said Hecate Hardbroom wants to change a syllabus that she flawlessly constructed twenty years ago.” Ada smiles. She grabs two biscuits, chocolate chip it appears, and slips them behind her back.

“Mmm. She said Pippa Pentangle brought a few new techniques to her attention.” Dimity stands, “Well I best get to it, I’m hoping to return to my sister’s before nightfall. Nice to see you, Ada.”

Smiling, she responds, “The pleasure is mine. Safe flight.”

Dimity drops her paper in the overstuffed armchair and leaves the staffroom.

Pippa Pentangle. Ada frowns. Since when has Hecate taken advice from Pippa Pentangle? Ada can’t even get Hecate to rearrange her deputy desk in Ada’s office and here Pippa is getting Hecate to rewrite an entire syllabus. A churning heat rises in Ada’s stomach.

Ignoring the sensation, she takes a bite of her biscuit.

Ada supposes she really should return to the library. She has plenty of research she needs to complete before she can finish the article she is writing, _Empathy: When is Empathy Too much in the Education of Witches,_ which happens to be due in two days time.

Deadlines are always a bother, but at least they leave no time to fret over the influence Pippa Pentangle has on her deputy head.

 

 

x.

 

Placing an end stop after the last sentence of her article, Ada sets down her quill and raises her arms above her head to stretch her shoulders. She scans over the last page of her paper. She spots a few sentences that need to be expanded, but for now it is done. She can spare an hour of rest, before getting back to it.

Slipping her pocket watch from her cardigan, Ada gives the time a glance: midnight. She has twelve hours before her article is due for submission to the Witchly Education Conference Council. 

Ada tucks her watch away and sighs. Slipping off her glasses, she rubs her eyes.

“Ada,” a soft voice calls.

Turning toward the sound, Ada can discern the blurred outline of Hecate. “Yes?” She slips her glasses back on and discovers Hecate standing in the library entrance: already in her dressing gown, with hair down, holding a bowl of soup. The softness of the image makes Ada’s mouth unusually dry.

“You’ve missed dinner.” She enters the room, holding the bowl outstretched in front of her. Hecate’s eyes are searching, almost cautious, as she places the bowl in front of Ada. She hovers, her hand on the chair next to Ada’s.

Ada stares back into those almost nervous eyes just as nervous. It has been so long since they’ve spoken. “Join me?” her voice is hushed as she is terrified of scaring Hecate away.

Nodding, Hecate pulls out the chair and perches in it. She clasps her hands in her lap and stares at them.

Ada flicks her wrist, summoning a kettle and all the fixings for tea. Using her pointer finger, she guides the kettle to the mugs and pours the tea. Glancing at Hecate, to ensure she’s not looking, Ada adds a pinch of sugar to Hecate’s and slides it across the table.

“Is something bothering you, my dear?” Ada sips on the scalding bowl of chowder, ignoring the spoon Hecate’s provided.

Hecate gives a stiff shake of the head and pinches her lips together before responding, “No.” She takes a deep breath and looks up as she exhales. The corners of her lips twitch. “Have you finished your article?”

Ada nods. “Just. I still have revisions, but my thoughts are on the page.”

“I could look it over,” Hecate offers, her fingers already curling over the edge of the parchment.

“Would you?” Ada spoons more chowder into her mouth, it’s so hot it is a moment before she feels the liquid against her tongue.

“Of course.” Hecate pulls a quill from thin air.

“It’s about Agatha and my foolishness.” Ada finishes her soup. She can feel it searing a path to her stomach and she knows she shouldn’t have inhaled it so.She leans back in her chair.

“Have you had enough? I can get more,” Hecate sets the quill down, rising from her seat.

Ada holds up a hand to stop her, “It was plenty, Hecate. Thank you.” She reaches for her tea and balances it on her stomach, fingers pressing into warm porcelain. “What is this I hear about you restructuring syllabi?”

Settling back down, Hecate stares down at Ada’s essay. “Pippa gave me an article that sparked a few ideas on how to help our students that are more, perhaps, challenged.”

Ada quirks an eyebrow, “Mildred, you mean.” She sips her tea.

Raising both eyebrows, Hecate purses her lips, “Yes.”

“Have you taken a liking to Mildred Hubble, Hecate Hardbroom?” Ada smirks at Hecate and her glare. 

“Nonsense,” Sniffing, Hecate continues, “I only thought since the girl chose to stay-”

“What do you mean ‘chose to stay?’” Ada leans forward, a frown on her lips.

“Pippa offered Mildred a place at Pentangle’s. I must have forgotten to mention it with everything-” she trails off, looking down, and running a pointer finger over the title of Ada’s article. “With-“ she doesn’t continue.

“I see,” Ada leans back, observing Hecate’s rigid posture and the way she is working her jaw back and forth: everything with Agatha, she means. “And you have decided to help Mildred because she’s chosen Cackle’s Academy?”

Hecate releases a huff that is somewhere between exasperation and laughter. “Pippa has taken a liking to Mildred. And perhaps I have seen something in her that I didn’t before.”

“Yourself,” Ada states. She takes another sip of her tea.

“When is this due?” Hecate asks, looking up from Ada’s article.

“In,” Ada tugs out her watch, “eleven and a half hours.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Hecate says in a tone she reserves for misbehaving students, “How often do we need to discuss the concept of deadlines, Miss Cackle?”

Smiling, Ada responds, “Perhaps more often.”

“I will stay with you until you’ve finish,” Hecate’s voice is soft again.

“That’s not necessary,” Ada says, though she wants nothing more than Hecate to stay and keep her company. She banishes her empty bowl from the table.

“Nonsense.” Hecate picks up her quill and begins her dissection of Ada’s work.

Ada can only settle in and watch as Hecate shreds her words, patching them back together in the best version of themselves. 

 

 

xi.

 

Ada pauses in clasping her overstuffed carpet bag when there is a knock on the door to her rooms. She frowns, it’s far to early for Hecate to be up, the sun having risen moments ago; yet, as far as Ada knows Hecate is the only one in the castle with her at the moment; Dimity having postponed her return.

She goes to the door and opens it, revealing Hecate. Her eyes are bloodshot, lips pinched, and hair in a loose plait. She’s foregone the corset on her dress and signature makeup.

Hecate holds out a mug.

“It’s quarter six, my dear.”

Hecate nods.

“You should go back to bed,” Ada states. She takes the mug, her fingers brushing Hecate’s which are cold even against the hot ceramic. “Thank you,” she holds up her cup in a small salute.

Hecate nods again and follows Ada into the room.

“I’m afraid I’ve overpacked.” Blowing on her tea, Ada sets it on her nightstand. She returns to the bag open on her bed and the ever stubborn clasp.

“You haven’t packed properly,” Hecate says her voice gravely with disuse. She clears her throat and nudges Ada aside with a sharp elbow. She begins to tug out clothes and books, setting them to the side.

“I can do that, Hecate,” Ada reaches forward, but Hecate knocks her hand away. .

“Let me,” her words are sharp. She takes a deep breath and tacks on, “Please,” in a much kinder tone.

Ada nods with a frown. Hecate is too sharp; the air around them stiff.

“Thank you.” Ada returns to her tea and takes a sip. Her eyes roam over Hecate, trying to detect the source of her discomfort, but Ada is distracted by Hecate’s rigid posture and the way it contrasts against her soft morning glow. Ada bites her lip behind the rim of her cup to stop herself from telling Hecate how beautiful she looks with the morning light dancing across her skin.

Clearing her throat, Ada pushes the thought from her mind. It is not the proper time for thoughts such as these. “I will be back Saturday around noon. I’ll take my Maglet.”

“All right,” Hecate tucks a cardigan tightly against the side of the carpet bag. Ada’s clothes lay much flatter than they did when Ada packed.

“Hecate, my dear, are you sure nothing is bothering you?” Ada asks because Hecate’s silence aches in her chest. She misses the ease as to which she usually converses with her friend. She misses Hecate’s gentleness and wants nothing more than to find a way to chase away the edge in Hecate as it rarely exists around Ada.

“Only tired,” Hecate responds softly. She places Ada’s Maglet on top of the rest of her belongings and clasps the bag shut. She straightens; Hecate does not look at Ada, instead out the window. “The weather conditions appear ideal for flight.”

Lifting the bag off the bed, Hecate turns, her lips pursed.

Ada tilts her head and sets down her tea. She takes a step toward Hecate and another, cautiously, until she is close enough to Hecate that her bag bumps her own leg. “Hecate-?” Ada gives a small shake of her head, not finishing her question. She bites the inside of her lip and reaches out, settling her hand on Hecate’s arm.

Hecate presses her arm back into Ada’s palm.

“What is it, my dear?”

Hecate smiles, but it is pained. Her eyes are so wide and lost.

Ada wishes to embrace her, but understands that Hecate would flee from her care; instead, she waits for Hecate to speak.

“It is nothing, Ada,” her words are accompanied by a small exhale, wet and sad. “Nothing of importance. Truly.”

Ada holds Hecate’s gaze, her fingertips aching to move, to caress Hecate’s arm, but she refrains. She must not destroy the openness between them.

“Where is your travel cloak?” Hecate asks. “You should start out.”

Twisting her free hand, Ada summons her cloak and broom. She squeezes Hecate’s arm before releasing her. She then reaches for her carpet bag, her fingers pressing against Hecate’s.

Hecate withdraws, taking Ada’s bag with her. “I’ll walk you.”

Ada nods, not certain how best to respond to Hecate’s tending.

Together they make their way to the grounds; the silence far less heavy than it has been since Hecate’s late return three weeks prior.

The air is sharp, slowly warming in the morning sun.

Ada clasps on her travel cloak, tucking the fabric around herself and pulls her hat from the pocket.

Taking her broom, Hecate magically attaches the carpet bag. “Well, fly safe, Ada.”

“Thank you, Hecate. I’ll mirror when I arrive.” Ada looks up at Hecate.

She nods, a small pinch of a smile on her lips. “I look forward to it.”

 

 

xii.

 

Stomach unclenching, Ada looks up from her article to the room of black clad witches before her. She’s done it; presented her work in a precise fashion. Despite being headmistress, she despises public speaking and is aware she has a tendency to ramble on when she is nervous. She smiles in thanks of her audience and steps off the platform to a room of applause.

It is not until she’s descended that she notices a familiar frame tucked to the side of the stage: the Great Wizard. He’s draped in periwinkle robes with a matching stiff hat and his arms crossed over his chest. If one were to know him, as Ada does, his expression is not unfriendly despite the thin line of his lips.

The woman next to him is eyeing him nervously.

Ada wends her over to him; “Your Greatness, well met;” she places her hand on her forehead and bows.

“Well met, Ada,” he responds and tucks his hands behind his back.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Your Greatness? This is not the place I would expect to find you.” She motions toward the sea of education witches.

“I wished to hear your panel,” his tone is soft, caring like the old friend he is.

“And?” She raises her eyebrows and clasps her own hands behind her back.

“Let’s walk,” he gestures toward the exit and Ada takes the lead out of the small conference room at The Spellbound Inn.

Her stomach churns nervously. If he wishes to speak with Ada alone the cause cannot be anything other than disastrous.

Ada leads him out into the corridor. She runs her eyes over dark wood lines the walls, torches cause the dim light to flicker, and a thick green carpet that leads into the lobby.

Could Agatha have escaped? Should she be checking in on Hecate? “What is it?” Ada asks sharply, tacking on, “Your Greatness” to remain polite. She flattens her cardigan over her stomach.

“In here, I believe.” The Great Wizard stops Ada with a hand to the shoulder, and opens a door to their right, two doors from the lobby.

Ada enters the small cleaning supply cupboard, conjuring two chairs with a flick of her wrist.

“What’s happened? Is it Cackle’s? The girls?” She rounds on him, not bothering to sit.

“Nothing of the sort. I only wished to check in with you,” he gives her a small, not unkind smile and seats himself.

“You’re positive? Not Agatha? Hecate’s sound?” She waits for his nod to take her own seat.

“How are things at Cackle’s? No problems with Agatha?” He steeples his fingers, placing them over his lips.

Sighing, Ada slouches and shakes her head. “I’ve moved her from my office.”

“It’s for the best,” he moves as if to touch her shoulder, but stops himself. Instead his eyes dart around the cupboard, which is crammed to the brink with magical cleaning supplies. “I know it must be hard for you, but from your article I know you understand. How’s your staff? How are they coping after the events of the past term?”

“All enjoying their holiday with family and friends.” Ada picks a piece of lint from her cardigan. She checks her pocket watch; ten minutes until the question panel begins.“None have expressed concern with-” she breaks off, her mind returning to Algernon’s unfinished heeding about Agatha and Hecate. One that Ada selfishly didn’t pursue as she could not handle one more undoing at her sister’s hand. She expected Hecate to tell her by now, but, well, things have not gone as planned.

“No one?” His frown is deep.

Ada busies herself examining the gold embroidering at his cuffs; “Should they have? Everyone appeared well at the end of term.” But that’s not true. There’s Hecate; Ada’s been waiting on Hecate.

She tugs back the sleeves of her cardigan and flattens the minor creases in her skirt, before she ventures, “Is this about Hecate?”

“So she has-”

“No,” Ada interrupts, forgoing pleasantries as she is tired of not knowing why Hecate has retreated. Sick of almost knowing. “But I’ve have my suspicions. What do you know?” her tone is sharp. She narrows her eyes, not to miss a single word.

“As you are aware, after term, I took statements from your faculty. Someone mention that Agatha was particularly foul to Hecate.”

“What did she do?” Ada realizes she’s perched on the edge of her chair, her body tight, ready to spring up and rush back to Hecate.

“I do not have details; however, I wished to alert you as I know you and Hecate are close.”

Ada frowns, “Because we are close,” she repeats. She has never known The Great Wizard to interfere because he cares.

“And?” Ada probes.

He sighs, “I am as much in charge of Cackle’s Academy as you are, Ada. I need to know everything is functioning smoothly. If you are having issues with He-”

“There is no issue with Hecate,” Ada states. She folds her arms over her chest. “I can assure you, your Greatness, that Cackle’s has never run smoother.”

“Very well,” he sighs and stands. “Sorry I can’t stay, Ada. I would love to hear your question panel.” Standing, he gives Ada a small bow before disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

Ada stares at a bottle of Quick Clean Magical Solution. So it is Agatha. It’s always Agatha. She drains any good that exists in Ada’s life. She even manages to do so from inside a painting.

Ada must return to Hecate. Hecate does not deserve to bear Agatha’s curse. Ada must take it from her.

A knock on the door interrupts her thoughts.

“Miss Cackle are you in here? The question panel is about to begin.”

Standing, Ada flattens her skirt and tugs on the edges of her cardigan. It would be odd for her to disappear from the conference. In fact, it may raise concern after recent events. She first must return to the panel, but afterward Ada must speak to Hecate.

Opening the door, Ada smiles. “I’m ready.”

 

 

xiii.

 

“Hecate Hardbroom,” Ada states as she shuts the door to her inn room. She waves her hand, activating the mirror above the chest across from the bed. She moves before it.

The mirror clears and she’s staring into Hecate’s office.

The lantern upon her desk is lit and the room is filled with that eery glow that makes Ada shutter when she’s in there alone.

“Hecate?” Ada calls out. She clasps her hands together and bites her lip. She needs to speak with Hecate. Ada cannot allow Agatha control over Hecate any longer. She wishes for nothing more than to rush back to the castle, but has opted to assess the situation first.

“Hecate?” she repeats, but she hears no movement. Summoning her Maglet from her carpet bag, Ada jots out _where are you?_

The device chimes on Hecate’s desk.

She swipes her hand and Hecate’s quarters appear. But she is not to be found there either. Ada swipes her hand again and her own office moves into focus; it is empty, appears almost untouched if it weren’t for the decreased amount of paperwork on her desk.

She really should give Hecate a treat for doing the majority of her paperwork; perhaps a nice lemon cake. One can never go wrong with a good lemon cake.

Ada swipes her hand once more. If Hecate isn’t in the staffroom Ada is leaving straight away.

The room appears before her and this time a familiar frame does come into sight, but it is not the one she is searching for rather that of Pippa Pentangle sitting primly at the staffroom table with her back to Ada.

Ada’s stomach lurches as she eyes that pinned blonde hair and swan neck. Pippa Pentangle who opted out of the annual Witches Education conference because of renovations at her castle; yet she has somehow found time to lounge in Ada’s staffroom.

“Are you going to tell her, Hecate?” Pippa asks, silencing Ada’s thoughts.

“No,” Hecate’s voice floats from the right of the mirror. It is stiff and Ada can imagine the purse of lips and tightening in Hecate’s shoulders. “Ada mustn’t know. It will change everything.”

“I’m sure she’d want to know,” Pippa states taking a sip of tea and turns in her chair to look over presumably at Hecate.

For a moment, Ada is convinced Pippa caught a glimpse of her, but she continues as if nothing is out of the ordinary. “What are you doing over there?”

“I can’t tell her,” Hecate’s voice is firm, but Ada detects the underlining quiver.

She must intervene for Hecate. To protect Hecate from having to reveal more than she wishes. To protect Hecate from the tremble in her voice.

“Hecate?” Ada calls. She clasps her hands tighter, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Ada?” Hecate’s response is breathy. “Have you,” she starts, coming into view- the skin at the top of her collar is blotched red; “-have you been waiting long?”

Ada notes Pippa, now turned toward them, duck behind her tea; her stomach lurches harder. “Hello, Pippa. I see you’ve managed to get away from renovations.”

Pippa waves from behind her cup, eyes sparkling.

“Just popped in,” Ada says,“I-” she hesitates, knowing Pippa will know about Agatha; Hecate’s most likely told her. However, Ada still feels this is a private matter.“I wanted to check in. All is well?”

“Quite,” Hecate responds her eyes are hard and soft all at once, shinning with emotion Hecate is too stubborn to release. “The classrooms and dormitories have been given a thorough cleaning. I’ve planned the next staff get together for the night before term starts and completed your backlog of paperwork.”

Some heat rises to Ada’s cheeks at Hecate’s attentiveness. “Very good. Thank you, Hecate. I can confirm I will be returning at noon tomorrow.”

“I look forward to it,” Hecate’s lips twitch upward, softening her face.

“As do I,” she smiles back; her chest swells at that hint of softness Hecate reserves just for her.

Ada severs the connection.

 

 

xiv.

 

Ada arrives back at Cackle’s a quarter hour ahead of schedule.

She lands on empty, sun soaked grounds; her chest heavier than it should be with thoughts of Agatha and of Hecate weighing on her.

She’s home; yet, home is less to her somehow when there is a conflict to resolve and no person to standing in wait of her.

Banishing her traveling gear to her rooms, Ada wends her way across the grass and up the front steps of the castle. The doors creak open when she pushes them, but the sound does not manage to crack the silence around Ada. She cannot wait until the girls return to add life to this drafty, old place.

Ada wanders toward Hecate’s study knowing she is early. She can already see the displeased pinch of Hecate’s lips; Hecate plans her day around punctuality. Not early, not late, but on time.

Still, Ada’s body hums with eagerness to reach Hecate. She wants to rid Agatha from between them and return their relationship to normal while they still have a week to spend without children putting a strain on their friendship. She misses easy conversations late into the night and strolls across the grounds in waning light. She misses small smiles and long comfortable silences; working together and dining together. She misses Hecate. Ada must get her back.

Knocking on Hecate’s study door, Ada waits. She clasps her hands in front of herself and rolls back and forth on the balls of her feet.

The door opens and Ada smiles, the odd hollowness of being back sinking straight through her and onto the floor as the thought of facing Hecate swells.

However, she has to keep her smile from crashing off her face the moment she realizes she’s not looking at Hecate; “Pippa. How lovely to see you again.”

“Ada,” Pippa nods, “Hecate’s gone to meet you.”

“Yes, I’ve returned early.” Ada clenches her hands tighter. She’s smiling so hard it hurts. “I’ll stop in later.” Her insides ignite, searing hatred. Hatred she has no right for feel; still, she does. Because Pippa now comes first in Hecate’s life. Comes first over Ada and her longstanding friendship with Hecate.

“If you only wait a moment, I’m sure she will return.” Pippa steps aside with a sweeping arm gesture, welcoming Ada into a room in her own castle.

Ada’s certain she hears her brain snap; like a tree struck during a lightening storm. She takes a deep breath to control herself. “I really must return to my office,” her voice is much sharper than usual but she can’t bring herself to care because she’s brimming with rage.

Rage at Pippa.

Ada turns without a proper goodbye.

She’s furious with Pippa for acting as if she owns Cackle’s. As if she has any right to welcome Ada into any part of her own home.

She’s furious with Pippa for acting like she has the right to be in Hecate’s life; as if, Ada has not spent the past two decades helping console Hecate over her loss of Pippa.

And she’s furious with Pippa for being with Hecate when Ada isn’t.

Ada loathes Pippa, because, because- Ada can sense her own defeat sink in as she realizes she loathes Pippa because Hecate trusts her more. Pippa hasn’t received Hecate’s silence as Ada has this holiday because Hecate does not need time to trust Pippa with the truth.

“Ada.” It’s Hecate coming up the corridor.

“Hecate,” Ada nods, a smile tight on her lips.

“You’re early.” Hecate’s eyes are wide, soft with concern that makes Ada’s stomach jolt in completely different way.

“Yes.” She’s still nodding, unable to stop.

Hecate takes a step closer, “What is it?” her voice hardly rising above a whisper.

Ada manages to shake her head. “Nothing, my dear. But when you have a moment, I do wish to speak with you,” she drops her voice, “privately. Perhaps a stroll at dusk.”

Hecate’s eyes manage to soften even further and Ada wants to reach out to Hecate, sooth her, but instead she raises her eyebrows in question.

Hecate dips her head; “Of course.”

“Until then,” Ada can’t help herself; she pats Hecate on the arm as she passes. She hopes that Pippa sees it.

 

 

xv.

 

“You seem better,” Hecate notes as she holds the castle door open for Ada.

“Calmer, perhaps,” Ada responds. She steps into the cool evening breeze and inhales the sweet summer. The sky is kissed pink and orange. She does indeed feel calmer than she did earlier.

“I apologize for inviting Pippa. I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Miss Pentangle,” Ada says softly; she clasps her hands together, “is always welcome at Cackle’s.”

She looks up at Hecate as they set off on their stroll; observing the slight frown on her lips, and those hard, defensive eyes. Ada’s hand aches to reach out. Instead she holds her own hand tighter.

“That’s not what you wished to speak of?” Hecate raises her eyebrows, her brown eyes wide as she turns them on Ada. She brings her hands to the timepiece around her neck, fidgeting with it.

Ada pinches her lips together before saying, “No, my dear. I wish that were all.”

“Ada,” Hecate snaps before Ada can continue, “what is it?” her voice much softer this time, almost scared.

“The Great Wizard paid me a visit while I was away.” Ada’s eyes move from Hecate, back to the sky. She wanders toward the trees, contentedness slipping over her.

“Why?” Hecate’s arm brushes hers; most likely not on purpose, but it comforts Ada to know that there is the slim chance it could be.

“To speak of you.” Ada pauses and faces Hecate so she can glance behind those walls. She smiles, placing a hand on Hecate’s bent elbow.

“Me?” A deep line appears between Hecate’s brows.

“And Agatha.” Ada tilts her head.

“Oh,” Hecate says, she gazes over Ada’s head. Her eyes begin to shine with welling tears.

Ada squeezes her elbow. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Hecate? About how Agatha treated you?”

Pinching her lips together, Hecate moves her attention to her hands and the watch. She whispers, “I did not wish to worry you.”

“What happened?” Ada steps closer. Her chest aches; responding to the quiet brokenness in Hecate’s tone.

Hecate tries to step away, but Ada adds gentle pressure to her touch and Hecate stays.

“I fought for you,” Hecate whispers, her eyes between them, refusing to look up.

No words can express the hot, bubbling warmth in her chest that urges Ada closer to Hecate.

Slipping her hand from Hecate’s elbow to her arm, Ada dares to bring her free hand up to the other. She runs her finger up rough lace to Hecate’s elbow and allows her thumb to graze back and forth over Hecate; her sweet, brave, loyal Hecate.

“I fought for you,” she repeats, “and,” Hecate shakes her head. “It’s foolish. It meant nothing.” She sucks in an unsteady breath.

Ada wishes to reach up and cup Hecate’s cheek. Use her thumb to smooth the creases of pain so plain upon Hecate’s face. Instead she holds Hecate’s arms tighter beneath her fingers; keeping her here with Ada, here in this moment.

“It does, my dear,” Ada can barely hear her own words, afraid she’s only thought them. But to voice this, truly voice it at full level, would snap the trust between them. It would force Hecate away.

At Ada’s words, Hecate’s eyes find hers and she give a sharp nod.

The brimming tears in those brown eyes send Ada’s insides roaring; she has the right mind to go destroy that painting. Never release Agatha for what she has done. Ada forces the ire to remain in her chest. Right now is about Hecate; she will, finally and truly, deal with Agatha later.

“Ada,” the word is wet from Hecate’s lips. She shakes her head again, opening her mouth to speak but instead continues to shake her head.

“What did she do, Hecate?” Ada’s voice is still quiet, but it’s sharper than intended.

Her face scrunching, Hecate continues to shake her head. She folds into herself. Yet she does not allow the tears to fall. 

It’s as if everything inside Ada shatters: her anger, her fear, her love, her heart, to her very bones. So she takes the plunge and raises her fingers to Hecate’s chin. She runs them over the soft skin and sharp angles of Hecate’s jaw. “Tell me, my dear.”

Hecate presses back into Ada’s touch. Her eyes flutter shut. “The first time,” she whispers, “She sent me away. She told me I had only been a hinderance and, and it truly does not matter, Ada. It wasn’t you.”The tears are now clinging to her lashes, her eyes are still pinched closed.

“It does. It does matter because though it was not me it felt like me. Didn’t it, Hecate?”

She nods, the tears finally escaping.She opens her eyes. They’re red and shine brightly. “After everything you’ve done; given me a home, a place to have friends, a best friend-” she trails off into a hitched breath. “The second time, Agatha forced me to use my magic against, against everything I love. She forced me to use my magic,” she repeats, her cheeks wet and beneath her eyes tinted black by mascara. “Against my will.”

“Oh, Hecate,” Ada breathes. She trails her fingers up Hecate’s cheeks, swipes at tears with her knuckles.

Hecate pulls away, turning her back to Ada.

Ada retreats a few steps and waits, giving Hecate her space. She allows her body to tremble with rage as she watches Hecate push away her tears with her fingers. Agatha forced Hecate to use magic, took it from her. There is nothing more foul than to remove a witch of her power. To rob her of her will.

She breathes deeply, taking a moment to be certain no anger will appear in her words. She will not have Hecate thinking she’s done anything wrong. “You have never once been a hinderance to me or this school, Hecate. You have been nothing but helpful. In fact, this school and perhaps I, would no longer exist without you. Agatha has a sharp eye for weakness, she always has. But you, my dear, have never been anything other than an asset to this school and a best friend to me.”

Nodding, Hecate faces Ada, a semblance of her structured control returned to her features. “I’m sorry, Ada, for being foolish.”

“Nonsense. There’s not an ounce of foolishness in you, Hecate Hardbroom. I only wish you had come to me sooner, for your own sake, my dear.”

“Shall we return to the castle?” Hecate asks, her eyes darting to the darkening sky.

They walk together, the lace of Hecate’s dress catching against Ada’s cardigan with each step.

Ada’s mind wanders back to her sister. Agatha and her foul schemes. Agatha and her abuse of of Ada’s staff, her pupils, of Hecate. She can barely hear her own voice over the thundering of her anger.

“Hecate?” Ada starts, pausing on the steps of the castle. She pivots and discovers herself eye level with Hecate, as Hecate has not yet started up the stairs. Her hands tremble with ire and she clasps them together. “I hope you know that if anything were to bother you, if something were to happen, especially something as important as what my sister,” her voice cracks over the word. Agatha is no sister of hers; Ada lost her sister long ago. This woman, Agatha, that Ada’s been holding out hope for is someone she no longer recognizes. “Agatha,” she continues, “has done to you, that you may come to me. That I wish for you to come to me.”

Hecate’s eyes go wide and soft. Her lips tighten. She works her jaw in a way Ada’s aware means Hecate is struggling for control. “I do.” Hecate’s hand briefly hovers between them.

Ada is satisfied. She digs into her cardigan pocket and pulls out a sweet tin, grateful her hands are no longer shaking. “Lemon drop?” Ada asks, a grin on her face though anger is pulsing through her. She holds them out to Hecate.

Hecate sniffs in disapproval, but for the first time since Ada’s known her, she takes a sweet. Popping it in her mouth. Her face pinches.

Chuckling, despite her ire, Ada takes her own sweet before tucking the tin away.

Giving Ada a parting glare, Hecate sweeps back into the castle; leaving Ada to watch after her wondering how one person can be so strong.

 

 

xvi.

 

Ada paces her office. She’s just returned from the stroll with Hecate and her time alone in the halls on her way here’s allowed her to seethe over what she has learned.

She needs to do something about Agatha, that much is clear. She can feel the desperation of it aching in her bones beneath the fire of fury devouring her body.

She has to do it for Hecate.

She has to do it for herself. Ada finally needs to stand up to Agatha.

Transferring from her office, Ada reappears in front of Hecate’s.

She raps on the door and waits. But not her usual way of waiting, which is calm and patient. She’s overwhelmed with the need to pace. Overcome with a ire that she knows began the day of the Mists, when Agatha was sent away. Her loathing sears in her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her whole body trembles.

She wishes Hecate would hurry up; Ada knows she’s here. She’s always here.

The door creeks open in that way it does, the way that usually would send a shiver of anticipation through Ada. She clenches her teeth, her whole being on the edge of explosion.

“Ada?” Hecate stands from behind her desk, a frown on her lips. Her eyes are red and her hand twitches but she does not raise it to wipe the fresh tears from her face.

Concern creeps into Ada, she opens her mouth soothe Hecate, but her fury bites into it, consuming it. “Where’s Agatha?” Her voice rumbles from her, low and sharp, not anywhere near her own.

Hecate’s brows knit together. “She’s still here,” she places a hand on the drawer of her desk. “Why?”

“Give her to me,” Ada strides forward. Her spine straightens, head lifting- consumed by an anger that commands presence. A ruthlessness she’s learned from Agatha.

Agatha will regret the day she chose to contaminate Ada’s life.

Wide eyed, Hecate takes out the portrait and passes it over.

Clasping the frame, Ada glares upon her sister’s face. Loathing boiling up through her airless lungs and scorching through her throat.Ada bares her teeth, a growl lodged in her chest. She sparks flames in her other hand and she can’t help but smile. Agatha never believed Ada to be strong, but Ada will prove to her who is the strongest among them.

She ignites the edge of the portrait, watching flames lick up her sister. She laughs and laughs, releasing all of her hatred, her pain.

She laughs because now Agatha knows how it feels, pain. Pain and fear. Not for the ones she loves, no, there is no one Agatha loves, but for herself. She wants Agatha to fear for herself.

Her ears ring with her own manic laughter.

Until the flames disappear and a hand clamps around her wrist, dragging her back to the office, away from herself. Away from Agatha. And to Hecate’s face; filled with fright.

“This isn’t you, Ada.” She rips the portrait from Ada’s fingers, her other hand still tight around Ada’s wrist, rubbing soothing circles into her cardigan. “Don’t let Agatha do this to you.”

The portrait disappears from Hecate’s fingers.

Ada’s attention is still locked on Hecate’s face, on the terror in her eyes. She knows that Hecate is not seeing Ada in this moment; she is seeing Agatha.

Because that is who Ada’s become.

Waving her hand, Ada transfers herself back to her office. Her body heavy with shame, her mind filled with Hecate’s fear.

 

 

xvii.

 

Ada can’t feel it when she tears away the skin around her nails. She can feel her teeth sinking through flesh, feel her skin in her mouth, but it isn’t until she pulls too hard or bites too deep that she can feel the pain in her fingertips. Feel the pain in the rest of her.

She’s perched at the edge of her armchair, book heavy and untouched in her lap, and eyes stuck to the flames in the grate.

The fire consumes the logs, turning them to ash.

Just as Ada’s been consumed by Agatha.

She is no longer herself. The person she prides in being good, loving, and kind. Instead she is furious, spiteful, and dangerous; if her stunt in Hecate’s office proves anything.

And she loathes herself for it. Loathes herself because she’s always strived to be the opposite of Agatha. She’s seen the damage her sister’s caused in the lives those she’s touched and Ada vowed never to be so cruel.But she has been; she’s become all that she’s battled against in a single moment of rage. A single moment of instinctual fury that brought out the truth in Ada. She is not so different from Agatha after all.

There is no doubt in Ada that she has lost to the darkness that’s in her sister.

The truth was in Hecate’s eyes.

Hecate who strives every day to make a difference, learn, and grow. Hecate, the woman who inspires Ada to fight for good was afraid of her.

After all she’s confided in Ada, Ada’s transformed into the person that tortured Hecate.

How is she to face Hecate now? How is she to apologize, when she’s morphed into the monster responsible for widening every insecure wound Hecate possesses? How can Hecate trust her again?

Metallic flavoring fills Ada’s mouth and she looks down at her hands, at her torn and bleeding fingers. The ache of shredded hangnails throbs into her, chasing away her emptiness and creating a far more tangible pain.

She will need to speak to Hecate. Ada must learn the steps back to their friendship, to Hecate. As Ada has discovered over the holiday that she can merely survive without Hecate’s care. Not live. Not love; not without Hecate.

A knock sounds on the door, soft and almost weary against the worn wood.

Perhaps she shall leave Hecate out there for now. Ada’s not ready for Hecate; for what Hecate may or may not say. But Ada knows she can’t. It will only further the divide she has created and her chest reminds her she won’t do so with a slow and steady ache. She could never make Hecate wait, not when it takes so much strength for her to approach Ada in the first place.

She knocks again.

Ada creates a come hither motion with her fingers, pulling the door open with her magic.

Hecate is soft with hair down, wrapped in her leather dressing gown, eyes wide and hesitant, and book clutched to her chest. “I thought perhaps we could read.”

There are no words and no apologies when it’s Ada’s turn to speak; instead she nods. She opens the book in her lap, but remains perched at the edge of her chair and unseeing as she stares down at the page.

There’s a tapping in their silence between them as Hecate drums her fingers against her own book.

Ada focuses on the sound, on the restless force it causes within her. She’s on the brink of speaking; dangling on the precipice of verbally acknowledging what she has become.

“You must look at me and see her,” Ada mumbles. She flips the pages of her book. Over and over not to have to look at Hecate.

“No,” Hecate responds softly. “You’ve been chewing at yourself again. It’s been-”

“Decades. When I first became headmistress and stopped sleeping. Too terrified something would happen to the girls if I closed my eyes. You stayed up with me.” Ada shuts her book. She stares at her bloody fingers. She can hear Hecate shifting, moving toward Ada.

She perches on the edge of the table in front of Ada. Hecate holds out a hand, palm up. “And you made sure I ate, because I was as anxious as you, having recently been appointed your deputy.”

Ada places her hand in Hecate’s and bites her lip as she feels the softness of Hecate’s skin against her own. The warmth of Hecate’s magic prickles her flesh as Hecate begins to heal her. Taking care to run her long, delicate fingers up each of Ada’s own.

Sighing, Ada looks up and whispers, “I’ve missed you, Hecate.”

A small smile curls Hecate’s lips, but she doesn’t look up from her administrations. She releases Ada’s hand and requests the next by keeping her palm open.

“When I look at you I see you, Ada. I see my friend. And I see how you are hurting.” She finishes healing Ada’s fingers, but does not release her hand.

Ada can’t help but notice how it is as if their hands have always pressed together. “You looked at me with such fear.”

“Fear for your struggle. Not of you. I could never-“ she pinches her lips together and gives a small, sharp shake of her head. She begins to retrace the lines her fingers drew while she healed Ada.

“When I look at Agatha I see you, Ada. I see a force for good and I find myself hoping Agatha can be a fraction of the person you are. When she trapped you, I found myself waiting for her to stop. To make it all rightagain because anyone who has you, they can’t help but be good.” Her eyes find the fireplace.

Ada smiles at Hecate’s profile, at her profound belief in Ada. “As long as you are still comf-”

“Ada,” Hecate whispers. The word is soft and so very desperate it stops Ada mid-sentence.

“Yes?” She leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees; her stomach lurches in anticipation.

“There is something you must know.” Hecate opens her mouth, but the rest of her words remain inside her. Her eyes glisten in the light of the flames.

“My dear,” Ada whispers, “What is it?” Hecate’s fingers tingle across her hand.

“Pippa,” Hecate chokes out. She pinches her lips together, her jaw tightens.

“Miss Pentangle?” Ada laughs, pulling away from Hecate. “Of course.” Of course this is about Pippa; Pippa who has managed gain Hecate’s trust without effort. She has spent no time waiting, no time learning Hecate. She simply receives Hecate’s affections after decades of silence.

“Ada?” Her eyes are sharp and wet as she turns back. She flexes her hands and pulls them back into herself, retreating.

Ada finds herself guilty and regretful for not treading more carefully around Hecate’s rare affection. She must apologize, but when she speaks she finds her words do match her thoughts; “I am happy for you, Hecate. Pippa is good for you.”

A line creases between Hecate’s brows, “Ada, what-”

“You didn’t have to be nervous about telling me, dear.” Ada stands, moving to the fire to prevent Hecate from seeing the pain knotted in Ada’s chest. She rubs the space between her collarbone and breast to ease it. Tilting her head toward Hecate, Ada states, “I heard you speaking in the mirror yesterday, Hecate. Miss Pentangle wanted you to tell me-”

“Yes, she thought-”

“You have no need to be nervous, Hecate,” Ada continues.The knot tightens, wrenching within her. She can’t seem to breath; the room is far too warm. Perhaps if she keeps speaking, if she can get the words out of her there will be enough room for air. “I am, of course, happy for you, my friend.”

“You’re-” Hecate’s voice is sharp.

Turning to face her, Ada smiles and it is as if her cheeks are tearing open as she forces happiness to appear where it does not exist. But the facade slips when her eyes land on Hecate who now stands before the table where she was perched. Land on Hecate’s stiff shoulders, wet eyes, and trembling fists clenched stiff at her side.

“Listen to me,” she commands not unlike she would a school girl.

Ada spots her mistake with a soft, “ah.” She’s pushed when Hecate was open; when she was free of barriers and vulnerable to Ada’s pain.

Cautiously, Ada steps forward. She nods and clasps her hands in front of herself. There is still very little air in her office, but she forces herself to ignore it, to heed Hecate’s request.

Peering over her glasses, Ada whispers, “Tell me.”

“I,” the word is soft and crumpled as it leaves Hecate. “I,” she tries again.

“You?” Ada urges.

“Ada, I,” each word is accentuated by a pause, sounding as if it is wretched from her. “I feel for you,” she whispers.

“You-” The knot vanishes from Ada leaving her with the stinging sensation of tears forming against her eyes.

“Yes, I shouldn’t have-” Hecate’s shaking her head, slowly slipping from Ada. “Pippa thought it would be a good idea to tell you. And I’m so sorry, Ada. I-”

“I feel for you as well, Hecate.” She smiles and it hurts her. Hurts her because she’s trying so hard to express to Hecate just how true her statement is.

“More than feel,” Hecate clarifies, as if Ada could mistake her meaning.

“I know,” Ada breathes out. She moves herself into Hecate’s space, presses as close as she dares.She holds out her hand. “May I?”

Nodding stiffly, Hecate slips her hand into Ada’s. It’s cold, the skin softly worn and calloused against Ada’s. 

“Hecate,” Ada shakes her head, “my dearest, Hecate.” She reaches up with her right hand, pressing her fingertips into Hecate’s jaw and tracing Hecate’s pulse down her neck as far as she can before encountering Hecate’s dressing gown.

Hecate cups Ada’s elbow; her eyes flutter shut, a pained expression upon her face.

“I would like to,” Ada pauses observing the way Hecate’s shoulders lose their edge and how the lines begin to fade from her face. She would like to kiss Hecate. “I can’t say. It’s improper the first time for me, as headmistress.”

Eyes snapping open into wide, uncertain orbs, Hecate nods. 

As she leans in, her fingers ghost in circles over Ada’s elbow. She pauses close enough that her breath caresses Ada’s cheeks.

She gazes at Ada, her eyes soft and hopeful.

Ada nods; as does Hecate.

Hecate presses her lips to Ada’s in a ghost of a kiss. Lips brushing, clinging, tingling.

Ada’s breath hitches in the back of her throat, she digs her fingers into Hecate’s neck, pressing against her increasing pulse. Her stomach heats with the need for more contact, for harder kisses, but she allows Hecate to lead; Hecate’s touch an apparition over Ada’s arms, her hips, until Ada finds herself in Hecate’s stiff embrace.

Hecate pulls back, her eyes heavy lidded. She licks her lips, drawing Ada’s attention to smeared lipstick and a smile.

Ada smiles back, slipping her fingers up the small expanse of Hecate’s exposed neck to cup her jaw.

Eyes widening, Hecate raises her eyebrows in question. She opens her mouth but does not speak. Instead her eyes roam over Ada asking things she cannot voice.

Ada can hear Hecate’s insecurities. She knows Hecate too well to pretend Hecate isn’t asking if the kiss was good; but asking even more softly if she, Hecate, is good enough for Ada.

Nodding, Ada smiles wider. She will never have the words to explain to Hecate that she is not just good enough for Ada, she is everything to Ada. So she allows that truth to lie unvoiced between them.

Pressing herself into Ada, Hecate breathes out, “May I?”

“No need to ask, my dear.” She trails her fingers down Hecate’s jaw, marveling at the softness against her fingertips.

Hecate surges forward.

When her lips crash into Ada’s, Ada learns exactly what it is like to be enveloped in Hecate Hardbroom when all of her emotions are laid bare against Ada. It’s lips soft and insistent, tongue caressing, teeth nipping, and arms loosening, taking charge and guiding Ada further into Hecate.

It’s Ada wide open to be filled by Hecate’s care. It’s being so overwhelmed by Hecate’s passion that she’s unsure she will survive the onslaught. And it’s Ada left feeling as if she’s standing in front of the sea so very small and Hecate, the sea, vast and unending.

A moan sounds between them. Perhaps it is Ada’s, yet she does not recognized the raw and unfiltered tone of it.

Hecate’s arms leave her body and Ada is empty until hands cup her face. Lips infusing a tenderness in Ada so good it hurts.

She clutches at the neckline of Hecate’s dressing gown to ground herself; to stop herself from fracturing beneath all that is Hecate.

Her thumbs brush against Hecate’s bare neck; Ada latches onto the sensation. Allows herself to focus on how Hecate’s teeth tease her bottom lip and her thumbs caress circles on Ada’s cheeks.

Ada begins to crack; Hecate’s passion having filled her to the brim. It starts at her mouth, a quirk of the lips that splits into a full grin.

Hecate kisses the fissure with a smile of her own before ending the flow of herself into Ada.

Missing Hecate’s passion is an understatement. She finds herself slightly lost without Hecate lips and unsure of when Hecate first became such an integral part of her.

Slipping her hands up to settle in Hecate’s hair, Ada guides their foreheads together.

Hecate releases a small hum.

“Hecate,” Ada breathes out, squeezing her eyes shut. She can’t imagine another moment without Hecate; Ada will never know how she made it through the holiday. “My dear?”

“Yes?” Hecate whispers, her thumbs stroking Ada’s jaw.

“I- would you accompany me to bed? I-”

Pulling from Ada, Hecate retreats toward the fireplace. Her eyes are wide and sad. They pain Ada to look at. “I cannot. It’s, it’s too soon. I’m sorry, Ada.”

“I respect that, Hecate.” Ada takes a step toward Hecate once more, hands clasped in front of her. “You never have to be afraid to say no to me, my dear. I do, however, wish to finish my statement, if it is all right with you.” She stands in front of Hecate not touching, only watching. The flames in the grate don’t compare to the heat of Hecate when she holds Ada.

“Yes,” Hecate looks to the ground. “Of course.”

“I would like to take you to bed and I would like to hold you tonight.” Ada offers a hand in the space between them.

“Hold me?” her voice cracks and she focuses on Ada, her eyes glistening.

“Yes, Hecate.” Ada smiles at her. “I would like to do so very much.”

Hecate slips her hand into Ada’s. Pressing their palms together in a way that feels as if they always have.

Transferring them, Ada releases Hecate once they are in her private quarters. She will, as always, wait for Hecate to set their pace.

With a sweep of her hand, Ada is clothed in her dressing gown. She busies herself flipping the duvet on her bed and lighting the oil lamp on her nightstand. When she turns back to Hecate, she discovers her unmoved, eyes glued to the bed and full of trepidation.

“Would you like to lie down?” Ada asks. She steps away from the bed, toward Hecate. She reaches out, her fingers sliding over Hecate’s leather clad arm. She squeezes Hecate’s bicep. “You don’t have to stay, Hecate. I will understand.”

Tearing her eyes from the bed, Hecate shakes her head. She peers at Ada, her face suddenly shy and almost vulnerable. “I want to stay. It’s only- I’m not certain- I’m not accustomed to-” she doesn’t finish.

It is not necessary because Ada understands what Hecate is trying to tell her; Hecate is not accustomed to care.

She dislodges Ada’s hand from her, only to take it in her own. Hecate tangles her fingers with Ada’s and it is right; so right it makes Ada smile.

Allowing herself to be guided to her bed, Ada is at a loss when Hecate’s fingers are no longer pressed to her own.

Her mouth dries as Hecate slips beneath the duvet, her eyes soft and uncertain.

Ada licks her lips. Hecate is in her bed. In her bed waiting for her.

This is the worst idea Ada has ever had, because Hecate is in her bed; sweet, trusting Hecate, and Ada’s overcome with the desire to ravish her.

She reminds herself, later, the ravishing must come later.

Climbing in next to Hecate, Ada shifts until she is comfortably propped against the stack of pillows behind her.

“Come here, my dear,” her voice a gentle whisper. Ada guides Hecate’s head to her shoulder and curls around her; holding Hecate as close as she dares.

Hecate’s tense next to Ada. Her hands clenching and unclenching at her side.

Running a hand up and down Hecate’s arm, hoping to relax her, Ada ventures; “Is this all right?”

“Yes,” Hecate responds, her nod sharp.

She continues to caress Hecate’s arm and slowly the tension leaves Hecate soft next to Ada.

Raising her arm, Hecate hovers it over Ada stomach, before placing it around her.

Smiling, Ada presses a kiss to Hecate’s head. She sighs and mouths, “Perfect,” into Hecate’s hair.

“Yes, rather,” Hecate’s tone is curt.

Ada’s heartbeat skips knowing she is caught. She didn’t mean for it and waits for Hecate to pull away.

But Hecate doesn’t. Instead silence engulfs them. It is light and pleasant and almost manages to wash away the memories of what a misery the holiday was for Ada.

The longer the silence lingers the longer Ada is allowed to settle into the comfort of having Hecate near and the longer she is comfortable, the longer she has for a new urge to develop. One that’s spawned over the years from a tenderness in their friendship: the desire to tease. Oh, how she loves to tease Hecate.

“You know,” Ada begins, pushing aside the silence in favor of the return of light banter between the two of them. “We should make a list.”

“A list?” Hecate’s voice is hesitant; she knows what is to come, Ada can hear it.

“Yes, a list of people we need to thank for finally getting us to this point. Starting with Miss Pentangle, I believe.”

“So now you favor Pippa,” her tone is try but indulging.

As Hecate is allowing it, Ada continues, “Well, now that she’s not attempting to steal away any chance that I have at caring for you, she is rather nice; I’ll admit.”

Hecate huffs.

Ada smiles, “The second person is-” she hesitates a moment, not sure she wants the bitter taste on her tongue while she is holding Hecate, but she must continue to move on, “Agatha.”

Stiffening, Hecate remains silent and Ada is quick to wrap her arms tighter around Hecate. Quick to press her lips back to Hecate’s head.

She surges on, “And I can’t wait to tell Mother. She will be thrilled.”

“Your mother?” Hecate slides further into Ada’s embrace.

Ada hums. “The moment she hired you she added you to her will.”

“She-” Hecate raises herself to look into Ada’s eyes, her own squinting into a glare as Ada smirks at her.

Hecate leans in and kisses Ada; lips pressing to Ada’s in open passion; leaving Ada on the brink of losing herself once more. She clasps on to Hecate, focuses on Hecate keep herself rooted in all that is Hecate.

Hecate nips at Ada’s bottom lip.

This is not the response Ada was expecting, but it’s one she could get used to.

Ada moans and Hecate’s tongue slips into her mouth.

Oh yes, it is one Ada could get very used to indeed.

 

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

 

 

 


End file.
